


Atlas Rested

by earth_dragon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Dom Misha, Dom/sub, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Spanking, Sub Jensen, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5043220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/pseuds/earth_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is carrying the heavy weight of guilt and responsibility on his shoulders after an accident on set. Misha knows how to lighten his load.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atlas Rested

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdinessboundaries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdinessboundaries/gifts).



> This is all [Mishabethyname's](http://mishabethyname.tumblr.com/) fault. It is ENTIRELY her fault. BLAME/LOVE her. A lot.

“ARGH!” Jensen yanked at his hair in frustration.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Misha soothed.

“It really is.”

“It’s really NOT!” Misha insisted. He hated it when Jensen was like this, agitated and far too hard on himself, even a bit self abusive.

“I mean, what?” he continued on. “Am I Jared now? I just go crashing around into things!”

“Jensen!” Misha admonished.

“What?” he snapped.

“It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone. You couldn’t have prevented that.”

“I could have been watching where the hell I was going!” Jensen countered, determined to blame himself. “I set production back by over half a day, Misha. Do you know how much money I cost them?”

Jensen began pacing again, back and forth through the living room. Misha was, at the very least, terribly grateful they had all been let go for the day and allowed to return home.

“The studio has buckets of money -- who cares how much it costs them to fix a couple of walls and lights. They’ll take care of it. The important thing is that no one was hurt. You weren’t hurt.” Misha rose from his seat on the arm of the couch and walked over to stop in front of Jensen’s now well-worn path; he braced Jen’s broad shoulders in between his warm hands and gave him a grin, hoping desperately to diffuse the situation. “And I, for one, and glad for the extra time off -- it means we get to stay home and rest.” He trailed his fingers gently down Jensen’s arms, trying to distract him, comfort him. “Or, you know, do other things.”

Jensen just jerked away and began his insufferable pacing again. “I cannot believe I missed my mark like that and just crashed right into all that rigging! I actually started a small fire! I looked so unprofessional! I have never done anything like that before. It was like I couldn’t even control my own body. So stupid!”

“ALRIGHT! YOU KNOW WHAT? NO!” Misha yelled, and he was gratified to see Jensen clearly startled at the sound of his voice. He had had just enough of all of this.

“Wha -”

“Stop. Right now.”

“Misha?”

“I said stop.” Misha drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. There was a way to get Jensen to listen to him, and he knew exactly what it was.

Jensen finally stopped pacing.

“Go sit down on the couch.”  
  


“But…”

Misha arched a dangerous eyebrow and pointed over. “I won’t tell you again.” His voice and actions brooked no denial.

Jensen’s eyes went wide, but he did as he was told.

When Jensen was sitting as instructed, Misha went over and pulled the coffee table over so he could sit a comfortable distance away from him, to look him in the face, but not close enough that they could easily touch, not just yet.

“Sit up and look at me,” Misha commanded.

Immediately Jensen’s back became ramrod straight, and though Misha could tell it was difficult for him, he maintained eye contact. Misha was immensely proud of him for that.

“Very good. I like that.” Misha relaxed his posture just a bit, indicated that it was alright for Jensen to do the same. “Now, you are going to listen to me and you are going to follow my instructions. Is that clear?”

Jensen hesitated for only the barest of moments, but then he gave a single nod.  “Yes.”

Something warm bloomed inside Misha’s chest at the trust that was being demonstrated in him. Clearly Jensen didn’t understand quite what was going on, or why, but he was willing to let Misha take the lead and Misha was grateful for that. “Good. Now stand up and remove your clothes.”

“A-all of them?” Jensen stuttered out.

“Yes, all of them.”

Slowly, Jensen rose back to his feet and began to strip. Each article of clothing of was removed and set aside, revealing flushed, freckled skin to Misha’s eyes. When Jensen was done he looked back to Misha for approval.

But Misha only gazed up at him.

Jensen began to squirm under the scrutiny.

“Be still,” Misha commanded, letting his voice rumble Cas-deep.

A small tremor ran through Jen’s shoulders, but he forced his agitation to calm, to allow Misha to look his fill.

Misha gave a tiny smile. “Good boy.”

Jensen blushed.

“Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully and do exactly as I say. Can you do that?”

Jensen nodded, even looking a little pleased. “Yes.”

“Prop your leg up on the table beside me; let me see it.”

Jensen looked at him curiously, but did as he was asked.

Misha curled his hand around the meat of Jensen’s calf and squeezed. “Do you see this?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see how strong this muscle is?”

“Y-yes.”

Misha moved his hand up to grip hold of Jensen’s bowed thigh. “How about this?” And here he stroked his fingers ever higher and higher up, teasing near the groin. “How lean and powerful are the muscles in your legs, Jensen?”

“I… I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it.”

“I bet you’re thinking about it now.” Misha smirked. “You run on the treadmill several times a week, and you were a cheerleader in high school. Your legs are powerful; they react to the slightest… provocation.” Misha quickly turned and bit the inside of Jensen’s thigh, sucking and licking, pulling the skin up between his teeth to form a dark and claiming mark.

Jensen gasped and wobbled on the one leg he was left standing on, but he managed to remain upright.

When Misha was done with the beautiful skin on Jensen’s thigh, he turned and looked back up with dark eyes. “And how about your abdomen?”

“Aw, Mish no. That’s not --”

Misha delivered a hard, open-palmed smack across Jensen’s backside, the crack resounding through the air. His voice turned stern once again. “If you are going to contradict me, then you are not going to speak unless I give you permission!”

“Ok, ok!” Jensen gasped out, surprised by the spanking. But, Misha noticed by the rise of his cock, obviously not adverse to it.

 

“Do not contradict me again when I am praising you; it won’t be tolerated.”

“Y-yes,” Jensen agreed. “Yes sir.”

Misha’s heart, which had ratcheted up several notches, began to settle back down again inside his chest. He knew at some point Jensen would try to protest against him, against what he was doing, but he also knew he had a point to make and that Jensen needed to hear it.

“Good. Yes. As I was saying, your abdomen is not your favorite body part because you perceive some flaw in it. That’s ridiculous, you know. There is no flaw here of any kind, only soft skin and the steel core of muscle at its center.” Misha spread his fingers wide across Jensen’s stomach, scratching his nails gently in the fine hairs there, letting them tickle and catch across the skin. He licked a broad stripe up Jensen’s rib cage and ended it with a sharp but non-marking nip just under the breast bone.

Finally, he had to stand up from his place on the coffee table. He looked Jensen full in the face, demanding, uncompromising, but loving, always loving. “Now curl your arms, bring them up as if you were lifting weights.”

Once again, Jensen did as he was told and Misha delighted. “Ah, just look at these. Look at your beautiful arms, Jensen. Look at how strong and big they are.” Misha ran his hands over the bulging biceps adoringly. “The sheer power in your body is outstanding. I want you to think about that. Think about all the power in your legs, and torso, and arms, and the way they all work together, how they work for you and carry you.”

“I… don’t understand.” Jensen’s brow furrowed. “I’m not contradicting you,” he rushed on. “I just don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“When you hit the rigging earlier today,” Misha began to explain. “You were running at your top speed in the direction you had been told to run. You made a left instead of a right when you got to the end, but you had also made that run three times and you were exhausted. Yet you were still giving it absolutely everything you had. At your top speed even I can’t catch you, and I’m a marathon runner, Jensen. I want you to really think about that. Imagine how much power there really is in your body. You _couldn’t_ stop.”

“I couldn’t stop,” Jensen repeated softly.

“You couldn’t stop,” Misha confirmed.

He moved in closer to Jensen, pressing himself against Jensen’s body and nuzzling up under his jaw gently.

“You tried. You tried so hard. You threw yourself to the side and did everything you could, and because of that, no one was injured. But trying to stop that much power, that much energy, coiled up inside your body all at once? It just couldn’t be done.”

Jensen shivered as Misha’s lips skimmed down his neck, kissing lightly. He wrapped a careful hand around Jensen’s half hard shaft and gave a gentle pull.  
  


“But, you know, there really is only one way to get rid of that much kinetic energy. Or at least the best way.” Misha continued to work his hand over Jensen’s cock, coaxing it to full hardness until Jen was panting in harsh breaths.

Misha lifted his head away from Jen’s neck and fixed him with a stern stare, all while he continued to stroke him. “But you must be a good boy for me, which means no more pacing and no more blaming yourself. I’ll not have that, Jensen. I will do wonderful things to your body, but you must realize how amazing your body is and all it has done to help keep you and others safe today. These are my terms.”

Misha gave a particularly wicked flick of his thumb over the wet head of Jensen’s cock and Jensen babbled out an enthusiastic agreement. “Yes!”

“Yes? Are you sure?”

“Yes! Please!”

Misha sank to his knees and took Jensen’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh God, Misha!”

Misha had promised to do wonderful things to Jensen’s body, and he fully intended to keep his promise. He hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head, sucking hard around the wet shaft, letting it slip in and out of his full lips. Above him, Jensen groaned and twisted fingers in his dark hair.

Misha thoroughly enjoyed it every time he blew Jensen, but this seemed particularly special. He liked knowing that, despite the fact that he was the one who was on his knees, he was actually in control. And yet, his control was what was going to bring calm and comfort to Jensen. The situation seemed more complicated than it actually was. Sometimes Jensen just needed to be forced out of his head for his own good, and Misha was glad he could do that for him when he needed it.

“Mish, MISHA! God!”

Misha pulled off just long enough to lick up the underside of the shaft, to take a deep breath and inhale the scent of arousal, and sex, and Jensen. His own cock was trapped tightly inside his jeans, and he was straining, but he could wait. Because Jensen’s amazing, beautiful, powerful body was right there before him, so close and so needy.

“You are so good for me Jen. You are so good. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Jensen looked down at him and their eyes locked. Misha made sure Jensen saw him as he took him back into his mouth, as his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure at bringing Jensen pleasure, as he palmed himself through his jeans. He made sure Jensen saw it all.  

“OH! Oh my God, Misha!”

Misha twisted his tongue around the head of Jensen’s cock and then sucked back down his shaft earnestly. He wanted Jensen to come; he wanted to swallow it all down, to leave Jensen breathless, and panting, wrung out completely.

He raised his hand and pinched over the love bite he had left on the inside of Jensen’s thigh and suddenly Jensen was screaming. Fingers coiled tightly in his hair as Misha swallowed around spurt after spurt of Jensen’s release.

Misha’s jaw ached, and his knees ached, and a trail of rapidly cooling come dotted the corner of his mouth -- and he didn’t care about any of that one bit because Jensen was also collapsing, sinking back down to the couch, breathless and smiling, calm and himself once more.

And reaching for him.

“Aw, Misha.”

Misha’s name never sounded so reverent as when it came out of Jensen’s lips.

**  
** He smiled and licked his lips. “Good boy.”


End file.
